


One of Those Kind of Nights

by orphan_account



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: (but probably never again after this), Humiliation, Kaz does cocaine, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Oral Sex, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6874090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"C'mon, Boss- it's the 70's, live a little!"</p><p>Kaz merges business with pleasure; the results are a mixed bag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of Those Kind of Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from the kink_meme, which I posted aaallll the way back in Feburary. Cleaned up significantly with some very brief new bits added.
> 
> **[Big Boss/Kaz - drug use and rough needy sex](http://mgs-kink.dreamwidth.org/757.html?thread=370165#cmt370165) **   
>  _Peace Walker era  
>  Kaz coked out of his mind, begging, and pleading for BB's cock to be inside him :3c  
> If you wanna give Kaz a nosebleed from using too much, I wouldn't say no_

Kazuhira Miller has never been the kind of man to do things in halves as a matter of pride, so when the Gun-Runner's Second in Command lays out a line of cocaine on the hotel room's tacky, glass table Kaz doesn't even hesitate. 

It's very important to bond with people on their own terms when you're trying to milk as much money out of them as possible so - after two or five tequila shots - Kaz lets himself be persuaded into another line. Or three? Was it another two? It had to have been two hits. Taking three would just be _irresponsible_. Things get really blurry after the second tequila shot, which is the first reason he takes a second hit. The other reason he take a second hit is because apparently, just like with liquor, the moment he gets a little _coke_ in his system, his ability to make a sound and reasoned judgement flies straight out the window.

He feels like _himself_ , only… _more_ so. It had been a five hour drive out to Cartagena from their current camp, and he'd been up since the crack of dawn besides; before the first hit of cocaine, he was running on fumes and pure force of personality. Now he feels like he can go for another twenty hours, minimum. The first fourty minutes of his high goes by in a confused jumble: he drinks a few more tequila shots, because why not, and exhaustively explains the contract he and the Boss are willing to offer these small-time gunrunners re protection along the Caño La Balsa and the shore of the Caribbean Sea. They want cover all the way up to the Panama border, which is further out than Kaz and Snake are usually willing to send their men. It's the biggest operation they've taken on yet and Kaz is eager to seal the deal, especially in light of Big Boss' noted skepticism beforehand. 

He's _so_ eager, in fact, that he manages to - within the first twenty minutes of his high - talk the Gun-Runner's right hand man up another 7k and even procure a signature, right on the slot beneath the big one that Snake was gonna coax out of the Chief in the morning. It feels _good_ , good enough that Kaz helps himself to another line of cocaine.

"Don't do so much your first time, _gringo_. The hang-over isn't worth it."

"Can't be worse than what this tequila's gonna give me," Kaz says flippantly before dipping down to take fourth ( _?_ ) hit. 

The burn's not nearly as bad this time, probably because his nose is already numbed from the pleasant hum that's thrumming through his entire body in response to the first two ( _three?_ ) lines. He wishes he had his guitar. He kind of wants to go pick up a pretty chick - or two, why aim low? - and test out what kind of effect the coke has on his libido.

It's tempting, but ultimately, he stays put because _Snake_ is supposed to come get him - after meeting with one of his old ex-CIA contacts on the outskirts of the city - and he's already suffered once through the consequence of Big Boss finding someone (not just _someone_ , Kaz in _particular_ ) dallying with women instead of doing their damn job. So instead, Kaz talks with gun-runners and finds them to be a surprisingly charming bunch for a group of men who are ostensibly low-life criminals. Kaz is not _quite_ over being surprised how much more comfortable he is among criminals and outcasts than he was in "polite" society, but he’s adjusting every day.

One of the runners is ex-FARC, which means that he and Kaz have a few contacts in common... contacts that Kaz tries to keep as vague as possible since Big Boss had _completely_ destroyed Kaz's reputation with the group of Colombian Rebels he'd been connected to. Luckily, due to the chaotic nature of Revolution, resistance columns have very sparse communication with each other. Their increasingly extravagant trade of "war stories" doesn't grow heated; what _does_ grow heated is a long, rambling - sort of incoherent, in retrospect - debate about Hemingway's _For Whom the Bell Tolls_ and the _Internationale Brigade_ which, for unexpected reasons , rubs a few of Kaz's insecurities exactly the wrong way. And, well -

\- well, he doesn't actually remember _why_ , but by the time Big Boss comes to collect him, he's in a fist-fight. One he's winning, to be fair, but he's still got a bruised cheek and blood on his knuckles when Snake hauls him off his opponent by the collar of his shirt.

"What's going on here?"

Big Boss' bladed, gravel-deep voice resonates through the room in waves: impossible to ignore. All the sound and motion in the room comes to a stop except for the record player in the corner playing out a scratchy version of _I Can See Clearly Now_. 

The Second in Command stumbles up off the couch, spilling his drink all over himself. "Wh-who are you?"

Kaz tugs free from Snake's grasp on his collar and swaggers forward, completely un-phased. "Who is this? This is the man _himself_!" 

He casts a glance back at his Boss and is hit by a sudden spike of pride and affection . _His_ Boss. Of the dozens of men who follow him, Kaz is the only one who has permission to introduce him like this, to operate with this much impunity. Snake's got that ever-present, kind of consternated expression on right now, which Kaz is really fond of. He's fond of the deep lines beneath Snake's eyes, and his stupid pointy nose, and the way he doesn't properly groom his beard even for important business meetings like this, the way he doesn’t _need_ to. He's fond of the way soldiers both worship and fear him, view him like he’s practically a God, but this one time Kaz saw Snake pick a spider up off the desk and plop it in his mouth like it was nothing.

"This is my -" and Kaz _really_ means to say 'Boss', but what he says is: "- best friend."

Snake raises an eyebrow and Kaz pales for a second, his mouth falling open in awe at its own stupidity. "This... is Big Boss," he corrects himself, as if nothing happened, clapping his hands to draw attention. "The real deal, boys."

Snake grabs Kaz's shoulder and tugs so they're looking at each other. He cups his cheek and rolls a thumb under one eye to pull it wide. Kaz winces a little at how intimate the gesture is, in front of all these _guys_ ; Snake, for all his untouchability _really_ doesn’t understand discretion.

"Kaz," Snake asks in english, voice low and eyes narrowed. "Are you... _high_?"

Kaz blinks. Was it that obvious? "Y-yeah."

Snake’s lips roll in as he clenches his teeth almost audibly. His fingers dig around the curve of Kaz’s shoulders hard and he takes a long, frustrated breath. He lets go of Kaz after a moment and shoves him away - shoves him _back_.

“Wait for me outside,” he says. Kaz bristles, the way he always does when Big Boss orders him around with no room for negotiation.

“Boss-”

“ _Kaz_.”

\- and yeah, that’s the _danger_ voice. Kaz gathers up his pride, taps the front pocket of his uniform to make sure he’s got the contract still with him and then exits the room with as much dignity and poise as he can manage with how much tequila he’s consumed. 

He waits in the hall for what feels like _forever_ , his entire body practically vibrating with impatience. Not practically, _literally_. He’s scratching anxious lines into his arms when Snake _finally_ bursts out the door. Kaz leaps off the wall and opens his mouth to say something, but Snake cuts him off by grabbing the front of his shirt and unceremoniously dragging him down the hallway. 

Kaz digs his heels in and struggles free. “Boss, I can expla-”

Snake shoots him a silencing glare, so he shuts up. Snake grabs his arm this time, and down the hall they go. Kaz is cognizant enough to let Snake speak first this time even though his whole body is ringing with the desire to talk, to justify himself.

"I can't believe you," Big Boss says after a long, sour minute.

"Oh, c'mon, _Snake_ it's the 70's, live a little! I was just mixing business and pleasure a bit and what do you know, it _worked_ -" Kaz fumbles at his front pocket and pulls out the - slightly crinkled - contract. He unfolds it, tries to shove it in Snake's face. Snake just tightens his grip on his arm and quickens their pace. "Boss - they're gonna wake up in the morning regretting how much they're paying us, but they’ve practically signed this contract in blood." Kaz laughs, self satisfied. "After all this time, haven’t you learned not to doubt my methods! Have I _ever_ disappointed you?"

"You're disappointing me right now," Big Boss says evenly. 

"Okay ' _papi_ '," Kaz drawls, mockingly. "What are you going to do, _spank me_?" The implication of those words doesn't hit until they're already out of his mouth. 

Kaz's mind swirls drunkenly and all of sudden he's horny as fuck. He almost trips over his own feet before Snake jerks him around a corner and spins them both to a stop. Kaz lets himself fall forward, allows himself to bump into Snake's chest, brings their faces close. They stare at each other for a moment in the pale wash of the cheap hotel's fluorescent lights. A mischievous grin it tugging at Kaz's lips, but Snake's expression is stone-stoic.

"Kaz..." Snake says in that tone of voice that means his patience is being sorely tested. _Good_.

" _Booossss_ ," Kaz slithers his free arm around Snake's shoulders. "C'mon, _c'mon_ , let's go back to your room. You can, ahaha, _“punish”_ me if you want."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather I hire you a prostitute?" Snake retorts, casting a disapproving glance down at Kaz's obvious erection. "You seem pretty keyed up, like you need to blow off some steam."

The statement hits like two slaps against either cheek. The first reads the sharpness undercutting Snakes tone, recognizes it for the low blow it was, feels a bit of breath go out at him invoking his mother like that, however obliquely. His heart skips a beat, then skips along - mind hurtling forwards like a train on two-tracks, _don’t dwell, everything’s so great right now. What’s that other thing that just_ -

The second hit lights up every neuron in Kaz's brain, blanks it out, his mind is overflowing with infinite sexy possibilities that had never occurred to him before. 

"Oh, hey, Boss, if you’re serious about letting me go get laid? Have you ever thought... you know -" he hooks his fingers over the first button of Snake's shirt and tugs him the rest of the way in, so that they’re breathing on each other. "What if the both of us, uh, _'blow off some steam’_ together'?" 

Why hadn't Kaz thought of this sooner? He's done the one kind of threesome, so why not the other? Besides - he’d been perversely preoccupied by the idea of what Snake's _like_ with women since the day they met. Right now, at this exact moment, it's probably his number one sexual fantasy of all time: the scent and heat of a third body between them, one of Snake’s big, rough hands on her waist, _the other in Kaz’s hair_...

He tries to run his tongue lasciviously across his bottom lip, but he ends up kind of drooling on himself instead. The worst effect of the cocaine so far is that it's tricking him into thinking he's less drunk than he is. He sways on his feet and Snake catches him, sets him right and then begins pushing him down the stark hallway.

"I wouldn't subject some poor woman to you right now, Kaz. Not when you're behaving like this."

"Boss, you never let my have _any_ fun," Kaz tries to reach behind, to swat Snake's hands off of him, but his center of balance is so tilted at the moment he probably wouldn't be able to walk straight without Big Boss' strong, steady hands guiding him. Which is probably a metaphor for their relationship somehow, Kaz thinks blearily. 

Big Boss leads him right into the seedy hotel's equally seedy public washroom. There are only three stalls: one without a door, and another already occupied by someone who sounds like they're having an even worse night than Kaz. Snake stops them by the sink and begins running the water. Kaz leans against the counter and waits, taking the time to examine himself in the mirror. His eyes are bloodshot and the hairspray that usually keeps his 'do impressively coiffed has melted off from the combination of humidity and sweat, leaving his hair limp and curled at the tips. His nose is bleeding, just a little bit. 

Kaz is suddenly fascinated by the dark line of blood gathering in his philtrum. He presses his nostrils together, coaxing it out until it drips over his lips so that he can lick it up. He's _so_ fascinated by the sight and taste of it that he's not paying attention to what Snake's doing until he gets hit in the face by two handfuls of cold water. He yelps.

“Jesus, Boss!” Kaz shakes his head, his arms, shooting Snake a betrayed look. Snake douses him a second time. “Stop!” he shouts.

“You ready to explain to me what was going through your head?”

Kaz stares at Snake, open mouthed and dripping. “I- I-”

“ _‘Were just trying to seal the deal’_?” Snake asks, in his best approximation of Kaz’s bouncy, solicitous tone.

“Yeah, and like I said, I did-”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Kaz,” Snake’s voice rumbles, filling the small bathroom like a brewing storm. Kaz nervously glances at the occupied stall. The man suffering inside has stopped his moaning momentarily. They’re speaking in english, so the chances of eavesdropping is halved, but still...

“Kaz, _look_ at me.”

“Boss, I -” Kaz casts around for something that will satisfy Big Boss’ inquisition. Yeah, he knows what Snake means: he wants the deeper reason, the _underlying_ reason - speaking in that holier-than-thou voice, the one he uses to convince people that he knows them better than they knows themselves. Kaz has seen him do this routine on so many people, he can’t believe it still works on him.

_I don’t know. Because I like to enjoy myself, try everything at least once._

That was his philosophy when he quit the JSDF, after all. Once, but _only_ once.

_Because sometimes it feels good to pull against the tight bonds you keep on me - it’s exhilarating to test the limits of your patience._

… and yeah, he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Snake was going to be pissed. That was part of why he -

_Because being in a room of macho guys ribbing on me for being white brings up a lot of debasing memories and I… I got my hackles up..._

Snake tips his head, his expression softening just a little. Kaz’s eyes go wide.

“D-did I say all that out loud?”

Snake nods and Kaz slumps against the counter with a groan, burying his face in his hands. The shift of his center of balance turns his stomach upside down and suddenly his mouth is watering with slick, sour saliva. The sound of the unlucky man in the closed stall starting his retching anew turns his stomach like a blender.

“Oh _shi_ -,” Kaz lurches forward and swallows back a mouthful of watery, tequila flavoured bile. Snake catches him and leads him to the only usable stall left unoccupied.

“Drink too much?” Snake asks neutrally. Kaz can’t answer or he’ll hurl all over himself. Snake sighs and drops him in front of the toilet. Kaz clutches the curve of the seat for dear life with one hand, his aviators with the other, and unloads every shot of tequila he’s consumed in the last two hours. It tastes the same coming up as it did going down, which is to say awful. 

“You done?” Snake wonders. Kaz’s answer is to hit his head against the rim of the toilet and groan. His mouth is still leaking a string of sticky bile and spit. He hears Snake slam the stall door shut behind them; a moment later he feels one of Snake’s hands on his back, rubbing comforting circles into the center of his spine. The warmth spreads through Kaz’s sensitive nerves and drags an unintentional hum from the center of his chest. That’s all it takes to set him off again. This time he curls into himself as the torrent of vomit cascades out his throat. He pulls back gasping, sweat beading on his forehead.

“You’d imagine that by now you would have learned to pace yourself,” Snake says helpfully. 

Kaz laughs. “Be _nice_ to me Boss, can’t you see that I’m suffering?” 

Snake’s expression remains unchanged. Kaz drops forwards and knocks their foreheads together. And then - because Snake is there, and he’s so _solid_ and _warm_ and he’s _taking_ care of him even though he’s obviously furious - Kaz gropes for Snake’s face and tries to kiss him.

He doesn’t hit the mark; Snake turns his head at the last moment so that Kaz ends up slobbering all over his cheek.

“After that, you’re seriously still all wound up?”

“Well, you know how I am, Boss,” Kaz tries to kiss him again, but is similarly rebuffed.

“Kaz -”

Next to them, the stall door slams open, followed by uneven footsteps staggering out the door and down the hall. Kaz grins. 

“Look at that, we’re alone now,” Kaz winds one arm around Snake’s neck and slides the other up his thigh. “ _Snake_ , now’s our chance.”

“You really want to do it right here? Next to the toilet you just threw up in?”

Snake’s not shutting him down explicitly, so Kaz dips forward to nip at his ear. With all the tequila out of his system, he feels scrubbed clean, hyper-aware, bright-nerved and trembling with anticipation for something to happen. He has no idea how long this high is going to last, so he’s only got limited time to convince Snake to fuck him. If they go all the way back to their rooms, it might be too late.

“I feel really good right now, Snake. The only thing that would make me feel better is if -” and Kaz whispers this part directly into the curve of Snake’s ear. “- you _really let me have it_.”

Big Boss leans back to study Kaz’s disheveled state contemplatively. He pushes Kaz's shades up so that they're resting above his brow - pulling his feathery hair away from his face - then he drags his thumbs down the ridges of Kaz's cheekbones, letting one come to rest in the dip of his lower lip. He nudges the thumb into Kaz's mouth, forces him to suck.

"Is this what you want?" Snake asks softly.

" _Yeah_ ," Kaz breathes, voice slurring lustily around the circumference of Snake's thumb. “Give it to me. Don’t hold back.” 

Snake nods, then shoves three fingers into Kaz’s mouth and bends him over the toilet again. He drives his fingers in as far as he can, cutting Kaz’s uvula with his nails as he triggers his gag reflex.

Kaz vomits rough this time, his stomach convulsing so violently that afterward the muscles feel stretched out, contract and tense like they’ve been pummeled for hours. The retching reaches deep, drumming up the cheeseburger he’d had for lunch. It’s so thoroughly digested that it smells like shit, leaving a rotten, dirt taste beneath Kaz’s tongue. 

“Wh-what the fuck-” Kaz pants.

“Let’s get it all up,” Snake says, cupping Kaz’s jaw and angling his fingers for another dive. Kaz jerks out of his grasp, but his arm collapses under him. His chin hits porcelain with enough force to drive his teeth into his bottom lip. They don’t go all the way through, but they tear the soft flesh open in more than one place.

“That’s not -” Kaz gurgles as Snake catches his chin again, “- that’s n-not how cocaine _fucking works_. It went in my nose, moro -”

Snake jabs his fingers back in again anyway. Kaz dry heaves around Snake’s knuckles a few times until he starts hacking up stomach acid. Snake batters the back of his throat until it’s clear that nothing more is going to come out, then he wipes his hand and forearm off on the side of Kaz’s shirt. Kaz hugs the toilet for a few minutes, gathering his strength. _Jesus Christ_ , what was wrong with him? He presses his eyes shut and wonders how many times he’s asked himself that question.

"Thank you, Boss," he rasps sarcastically. Snake ruffles his hair and stands up, helping Kaz to sit against the stall’s wall. Kaz looks at him through hooded eyes. With sweat and water beading his eyelashes, Big Boss is framed by a kaleidoscope halo of fractured, fluorescent light. Kaz sucks in a ragged breath and asks: “Well? Are we… going to... fuck or not?”

Snake crosses his arms, deliberating. Kaz, at this point, isn’t certain whether or not he was being serious, but when Snake relaxes his stance and reaches hesitantly for his belt buckle, he’s the one who jumps and yanks the thing undone. He starts to pull himself to his feet, but Snake sets a firm hands on his shoulder and pushes him back down.

Well, _okay_ , that’s not what Kaz was expecting, but he can work with it. His throat is sore as fuck, but at least Snake is letting him _touch_ him, that’s a start, and the heady, salt palate of a man's dick is honestly going to be preferable to the taste of vomit lingering behind Kaz's teeth. He can _work_ with it.

Kaz tears Snake’s pants open and leans his temple against his pelvis. Big Boss likes to pretend that he's more or less indifferent to sex, but Kaz has put a _lot_ of effort into making sure that he is _extremely_ good at this - especially for a man who's (theoretically) straight. There are few things in the world more rewarding than the unguarded sound Snake makes as Kaz grips the base of his cock and drags his tongue along the entire length of the underside. The satisfying sense of control Kaz feels over the situation disappears, however, the moment Big Boss fists a hand in his hair. _Oh_ , it's gonna be one of _those_ kind of nights, Kaz thinks to himself sulkily, but he's not really prepared for it when Snake mercilessly slams all the way in.

Snake's cock hits the back of his throat hard enough to make Kaz glad that he's already vomited up everything in his stomach. He wonders if _this_ was what Big Boss was planning the whole time. Snake does it a few more times: hard, carefully aimed thrusts designed to be as unpleasant as possible. He stops for a moment, giving Kaz a chance to catch his breath, to adjust. Kaz digs his nails into Snake's hip and gives his dick a little nip - just enough to remind him that he's vulnerable like this too, that Kaz could just bite the damn thing off if he wanted to. Snake grabs Kaz's hair again, forcing him to look up so that they're staring each other down.

"What's wrong, Kaz? You don't like it?"

Kaz scowls at him. Big Boss just grins and chuckles to himself. "Well, you know what they say. Beggars can't be choosers."

 _Oh well, in_ that _case._

His head knocks hard against the hollow, metal wall as Snake drives into him again, forcing him to deepthroat. Kaz grips his thighs desperately but can't get purchase with the loose fabric of Snake's pants folding and slipping away beneath his grasp. He buries one hand in the hem of Snake's shirt, yanking himself up so that he can get a little leverage, control the pace a bit. Snake grunts when Kaz leans his head back to accommodate his girth, to bob his head in time with Snake's brutal thrusts. It obviously feels better than whatever the hell he was attempting to do before, but Snake's response is to grab Kaz's head in both hands and readjust so that his cock is going in at an uncomfortable angle, stretching the corners of Kaz's already over-taxed mouth.

It becomes a strange sort of battle after that - Snake doing his best to make sure that Kaz is having as bad a time as possible and Kaz, _hilariously_ \- oh yeah, this was _really_ funny - trying to edge an inch of pleasure back into to act. For that bit of resistance, Kaz ends up flush against the wall with no room to struggle, his nails raking bloody lines over Snake's newly exposed thigh while Snake bites his lip to keep himself from making noise. Not like they're being discreet anyway: Kaz is making a cracked, guttering noise deep in his throat every time Snake thrusts in, accompanied by a tell-tale rhythmic _thump_ every time his back and head hit the wall, causing the entire stall to shudder and shake. Kaz can actually hear someone peeing in the stall next to them - there’s no way the poor guy can’t hear Snake trying to ram his dick through the back of Kaz’s skull less than five feet away.

When it’s more than he can stand, Kaz clamps down his teeth - hard enough that it definitely hurts. Of _course_ , that's what sends Snake over the edge; he actually draws blood on his _own_ lip for once. He gasps out loud- a husky, feral sound that puts life back into Kaz's own flagging erection.

Snake pulls out just before the first wave of his orgasm hits and - with great and deliberate care - milks his _entire_ goddamn load onto Kaz's face. Kaz doesn't get his hand up in time to shield himself from it. Most of it hits the left side; it doesn't quite get to the hairline, but some definitely gets in his fucking nose. Kaz wipes a spot out of his eye, then spits out a combination of blood and bile. 

"Kaz -"

Snake's cleaning himself off with a paper towel, already all zipped up. Kaz can't help but look up. Snake is giving him a dour, yet somehow _benevolent_ look - this was a lesson learned, _right_?

"Kaz," he begins again. "You're a Commander now. Act like it."

Kaz swallows back any smart-mouthed objections he had to that, pulling down his shades as he breaks eye contact. Message received. Snake keeps going, however, because _of course_ he does.

"Your actions reflect on your men now, the same as mine do. That's why I'm so careful. If you do not conduct yourself as someone worthy of respect, that sends a message about the MSF whether you mean it to or not." Snake pats him once on the shoulder, then goes to leave.

"Wait, Boss-" Kaz croaks before Snake can hitch the stall door open, the high still buzzing confidence through his veins like electricity. "Are you really... gonna just leave me here like this?"

Snake stops. Kaz stumbles to his feet and sits on the toilet, rolling his head back so that he can stare him in the face when he turns around. He can't imagine what he must look like right now - split lip, hair all mussed, his face covered in blood and come. He tries on his best cocky grin anyway. Snake frowns at him, but there's something else in his expression too: a fond weariness, an affection borne from the sense of responsibility a General feels towards his soldiers. 

Snake sighs and comes back to him, pushing Kaz's hair out of his face before running his hand up the length of his cheekbone with an efficient familiarity. His fingers come away all slick and bloody, but instead of wiping them off on his pants, he licks them clean - slowly, _methodically_. Kaz's heart jumps, but he's not sure why. His blood, Snake's semen - their essence all mixed together, and Snake's just fucking eating it, like some bizarre reverse transubstantiation. It wins him back over.

 _Holy shit,_ Kaz thinks blearily. _That doesn't even make any fucking sense. I'm really high._

Big Boss takes his sunglasses by both arms and slides them off his face again. Kaz looks up at him through his lashes - eyes wide and relaxed. Snake’s not wearing his bandana tonight. Seeing the full length of his forehead really makes him look his age, somehow. His thick, arched eyebrows, the cavern beneath his piercing blue eyes… there’s a bit of grey flecking his sideburns even though he’s still got two years til’ fourty. Kaz finds that unexpectedly hot; it’s a little embarrassing how much he thinks about the ten years between them. That’s not even what makes Snake seem so old. The lines in his face remind Kaz of ancient trees - battered and torn by the brutal turning of the millennia, but with roots so deep that they were planted in a dark, dark age that humans couldn’t remember. That darkness was deep in Snake and it wasn’t something that could be touched or held, only weathered.

Kaz realizes that he's staring at Snake with unabashed adoration, but he doesn't care. With the state he’s in, there’s no reason to keep up appearances. He feels the same way he does after his first cup of coffee, or after he and the Boss have a good, old-fashioned fist-fight. It was the same thing, really, the fight just took a more... _creative_ form this time. This was the calm after the storm, the inevitable pattern of their relationship. 

Snake leans over Kaz with a steadying hand in the hollow of his collarbone. He drags his tongue up Kaz's face, licking over his chin, lips, the dip around his eye. It's not really erotic, more like he's _grooming_ him, but Kaz's hand glides down his own thigh to paw at his erection anyway. He's gone enough to not care about how weird it is that he's getting off on his commanding officer licking his face clean like a dog. He’s just happy to finally be touched. _He's fucked up_ , Kaz thinks, pleasantly resigned. _We're fucked up_.

He rolls his palm along the length of his engorged dick, letting out a stuttering moan as it twitches and coils in response. It's the first attention it's gotten all night, and it feels like the sexual equivalent of water after days without. Snake’s tongue grazes over Kaz’s lips, coaxing them open with patient insistence. Kaz moans shamelessly into the kiss, shuddering beneath the warmth of Big Boss' strange, animalistic affection.

Snake bats Kaz's hand away after a few strokes, lifting him off the toilet by both his arms and pinning him against the wall again. "Don't do anything else," Snake orders. Kaz sucks in a sharp breath and nods, letting his head fall back against the metal as Snake undoes his belt and pulls his cock free.

With the cocaine still making his senses knife sharp and quivering, Snake's calloused hand closing around the base of his erection is better than any actual sex Kaz has ever had. Well, probably not, but it sure feels that way. The only thing that feels better is the firm, exploratory pump Snake gives it immediately afterward. The only thing that feels better than _that_ is the rough twist that Snake wrenches out at the end before gently flicking his thumb over the slit.

"Oh, _shit_ ," Kaz curses. He bucks his hips into Snake's fist, but Snake wraps his free hand around his throat and pins him to the wall that way.

"You asked me, Kaz, so let me take care of it." His voice isn't quite a growl, but Kaz goes still immediately anyway. He's not really able to process complete thoughts right now, so he rolls with it. Snake lets him go.

Yeah, yeah- it's fine. Big Boss takes care of his men. Big Boss takes care of _him_. Kaz closes his eyes, nuzzles into the nape of Snake's neck and wonders, briefly, why he came back, why he's being so _gentle_ and _accommodating_ after that frankly gruesome display earlier.

 _You know why_ , Kaz's subconscious supplies cynically, staring down a dark and quickly aborted path labeled Classic Conditioning. _Aren't you supposed to be smart?_ he asks himself with a vicious resentment that he hasn't honestly felt in months. And how could he, when Big Boss was so carefully and conscientiously sucking a dark, ugly hickey into Kaz’s neck right over the place he usually presses down on to choke a man unconscious?

"Not so loud, Kaz," Snake whispers. "We're in public."

"Y-yeah, Boss. S-sorry," Kaz kneads his scabbing lips, bites into the thick fabric of Snake's uniform shirt. "Don't stop," he groans, voice muffled in the canvas.

Snake jerks him to completion _proficiently_. That's really the best way to describe it - sort of like listening to a perfectly adequate musician pound their way passionessly through a great work of art - it's _serviceable_ , but in Kaz's drunken, drug-addled state, each wrest of Snake's wrist sends pleasure sparking to every corner of his body, even parts of it that he didn't think were connected to his dick. He comes noisily despite his best effort, noisily enough that Snake pushes him back and shoves a hand into his mouth. Kaz gags around it, then bites down hard to silence the rest of his serrated cry.

When he gathers his senses, he realizes that Snake is giving him a look caught halfway between incredulous and amused. "That good?"

Kaz braces himself against the wall to compensate for his shaking legs. He laughs and averts his gaze - a little embarrassed - as Snake sighs and does up his pants for him.

"Maybe I should do cocaine every time we do this, Boss, because usually your technique leaves a lot to be desired."

That kills Snake's good humour. He yanks Kaz by the collar and begins dragging him out of the bathroom stall. "You’re going to bed."

“Boss, are you serious? It's only -"

"2AM," Snake finishes for him. "We've got a business meeting at 7 sharp, to finish smoothing over the details. You might remember - it's the reason we came here in the first place."

"Yeah," Kaz snorts, "a meeting with people who are gonna be as hung over as I am. The bar isn't even closed, we could still -"

Snake pulls Kaz into the stairwell and turns around, a cold-as-ice grin showing all of his teeth.

"Kaz," he says, biting off the end of each word. "You're _going_ to sleep, if I have to _force_ you to sleep."

*

Kaz sleeps.

He doesn't sleep for very long. He wakes up at the crack of dawn in the bitter, empty throes of comedown. The back of his head hurts, the back of his throat hurts, his lips are scabbing in the middle and chapped around the edges, his forehead aches where the roots of the hair meet the skin. All over, his skin feels thin and over-sensitive, like he's a dried out husk with nothing inside, waiting for the wind to crumble away his edges.

Definitely worse than a regular hangover, he thinks, and rolls over in the cheap motel bed to find the sheets folded back and the mattress still warm. Big Boss slept beside him, which is... not something they really _do_. Kaz realizes intellectually that Snake did this to keep him from popping up again and running off to spend the rest of his high at a nightclub or some other den of ill repute, but in his post-intoxication abasement, he can't help but curl into the warmth; anything to make him feel a little less alone in the world. He really meant what he'd drunkenly slurred at those gun-runners last night: Snake was his best friend. His only friend, really. Kaz was on good terms with almost everyone in their small band of mercenaries, but when it came down to the line, Snake was the only person in the entire world he felt an honest connection with.

 _It's just sex_ , he tells himself, but only because he knows - emphatically, at this point - that it's _not_ just sex.

He presses his eyes shut in a futile attempt at staving off the tequila headache that's started to press between his eyes. _Oh good_. Why have one hangover when you could have two? Kaz lays in bed for a few terrible minutes, hating himself in a way he's usually able to avoid bothering with. When he's certain that he's not going to fall over while trying to stand up, he rolls out of the bed and wraps a blanket around his mostly naked body. He pads unsteadily towards the hotel room's balcony and pulls the flimsy door open so that he can join Snake, who is kicked back in a plastic chair, smoking.

Kaz slumps into the opposite seat and watches the slow spill of morning light paint the sky watercolour tones. He doesn't say anything, but he _does_ eventually work up the courage to look at Snake straight-on. His Boss looks relaxed, regal - his expression is serene as he languidly takes a drag from his half-smoked cigar. All the stern demeanour, and the genuine anger, has melted off him with the sunrise. Big Boss never stays angry at his men: he expects them to learn their lesson after a single warning. Kaz is unique in that respect - he's not even sure what _"black mark on the record"_ he's on at this point and he stopped counting a while ago.

"Hey, Boss," he says, voice hoarse but chiding. "You shouldn't smoke so much, y'know. I heard there's evidence now that those things are bad for your health." It's also an olive-branch: a self-deprecating remark that carries a weight of irony, a veiled admission, the closest someone like Kaz ever gets to an apology.

Big Boss _slowly_ tilts his head to regard Kaz with a simmering, ambiguous expression. Kaz is forcing a smile, but this is an important moment. He's gripping the arms of the plastic chair so hard that his knuckles are turning white. The words hang between them in the humid morning air like they're written out in red ink as they size each other up, trying to gauge what has changed, and what hasn't. It always _does_ shift with them, sometimes imperceptibly, sometimes with the impact of a tsunami, but never anything in-between. Kaz isn't sure which this one is yet, and he won't know until one of them _reacts_. They stare at each other for a long, _long_ time, completely silent as they sit together beneath the lightening sky. 

Finally, Snake cracks a very small, but very sincere smile and - almost simultaneously - they burst out laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be afraid to leave comments - even though I orphaned this work I'll still keep an eye on this. :D


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